


Always Alone

by Oras



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, No Dialogue, References to Depression, everyone's a prick, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oras/pseuds/Oras
Summary: He doesn’t care when an hour from when Peter bit him, the wound starts to swell. Doesn’t care when black goo starts to ooze out.





	Always Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is probably the darkest, most depressing shit I've ever written.

It’s on nights like these, where his father is gone, and the entire house is empty and cold, where Stiles just feels so unbelievably alone. He tries to work on school, he tries to focus, he tries to do something. But he can’t, because every single thought, every single fibre of his body is screaming ‘alone!’ over-and-over again. 

Scott’s not there, Derek’s never been there. He’s got no one except for his father and even he doesn’t fully support him. Or believe him. Or even like him. How could he with a son that only causes trouble, can’t get his grades back up, killed his own mother, and spends his time on researching fucking fairies. At least his father still likes a bottle of alcohol. They can’t seem to be apart for more than two seconds these days.

But Stiles is used to it. The loneliness, the emptiness, the ongoing void of nothingness. It has been his life ever since his mom started going crazy and wanted to hurt him. Ever since she died, and his dad started drinking non-stop. Ever since Scott got bit and they’d gotten in their current clusterfuck.

But Stiles is used to it. What he isn’t used to is the fakeness. People pretending to be nice, then talking behind his back, lodging a 10-inch rusty knife there and letting him lie there and bleed. He’s surrounded by strong-willed, motivated, happy-go-lucky people who always seem to get their voice across by cutting others off and he’s disgusted by it. Appalled by the extroverts who pretend to like him, who have to put up with him because of an assignment or because the teacher said so.   
He hates it. He hates these people. There are times where he wishes he could home-school. He could easily forge his father’s signature and do all the paperwork himself, his dad wouldn’t even find out. And when he would, he’d think Stiles was kicked out of school and drown himself in another bottle. So much for family, and trust, and fucking being there when it counts.

He can’t do anything to stop it either. He can’t stop the vicious cycle in his head, can’t stop brooding about it, or making snarky sarcastic comments. Can’t stop putting on a false bravado and letting people think he’s okay, even though he’d rather see them six feet under. He can’t stop hating his best friend for always being so goddamn stubborn, on always giving people a second chance. Scott doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand that he’s human and sometimes will need to make his hands dirty in order to survive. He doesn’t understand that he needs to give his fullest potential in every single clusterfuck to even have a fighting chance. 

But Peter does.

Peter understands fully well. He knows about everything. About the hardships, about his father, about Scott, Hell, even Derek. 

Peter knows.

And he’s got the solution. 

He’d only have to take the Bite. Everything would be okay again. He’d be able to stop his father from drinking, he’d be able to make Scott understand, he’d put a stop to all Derek’s dumbass plans. He’d make it all better.

So, when Peter does grab his wrist and brings it closer to his lips, when he does open his mouth and shows his fangs ready to strike down, Stiles doesn’t care that there is a possibility he could die.

He’s tired.

And cold.

And empty.

And he’s so unbelievably lonely. 

He doesn’t care when an hour from when Peter bit him, the wound starts to swell. Doesn’t care when black goo starts to ooze out. Doesn’t care that he feels sick and even colder when he falls to the ground in one of his dizzy spells. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t feel the emptiness anymore. He doesn’t feel the pain from his father never being there for him anymore. Doesn’t feel the neglect from Scott every time he brushes him off, or leaves him, or doesn’t answer his phone. He doesn’t feel Derek’s broody attitude. He doesn’t feel excluded anymore.

He feels better, although still tired. 

For the first time in months he could feel a real smile creeping up. An actual feeling of happiness rather than a faked one. He doesn’t have to worry about a thing anymore. He only has to close his eyes and wait.

So, he waits.

And finally, he’s not alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this made you uncomfortable. Just wanted to experiment some more, I suppose. 
> 
> Feedback's always welcome.


End file.
